❝ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❞

The corridor was half-asleep in shadows, its silence broken only by the slow echo of footsteps.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

They were hesitant, almost apologetic, like they had no right to disturb the hush.

Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, but it came in thin slants, slicing the darkness rather than chasing it away. The rays touched her face, then left, then touched again, as if testing whether she could hold still.

Her fingers clenched tighter around the stack of books pressed to her chest. Her knuckles whitened... the soft thud of her heartbeat seemed louder than her footsteps.

She kept her gaze lowered, eyes darting over the floor tiles, mapping out where her feet would fall, as though the ground itself might betray her if she looked up.

Then came another sound.

Louder and Carefree.

A ripple of laughter followed by mocking whispers.

It was a group.

"How long will you hide in your house this time, Tizmat?"

One of them drawled.

The voice slithered through the corridor before the owner appeared.

The footsteps multiplied with it.

A boy stepped into her path and slammed his palm flat against the wall beside her head as she turned half way defensively. The sound cracked the silence like a whip. Tizmat froze.

"Look at me," he demanded, his tone both cruel and amused.

Her lashes fluttered but her gaze stayed stubbornly on the shadow trembling over his shoes. The light brown in her irises caught the edge of a sunbeam, but the glow was faint, dulled...like a candle struggling against wind with all it has.

"What's wrong? Can't?" another voice chimed in, female this time, playful yet violently sharp. "She never does. Always acting as if she's too scared to speak. Do we scare you?"

Laughter filled the air.

"Nah, she thinks she's special."

The group laughed again.

Tizmat's breath hitched.

She shifted sideways, trying to slide past, but their bodies formed a wall of grins and taunts. One boy leaned closer, his tone mockingly sweet, "Say my name once. Just once. Or do you save that trembling voice for someone else?"

Her grip on her books tightened.

"Pathetic, Kavish!" someone spat.

And then a shrill voice cut through from the very end of the corridor.

"That's enough!"

The shout came like a stone hurled through glass. All the heads turned.

A girl stormed down the corridor, fire in her eyes.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?"

"Oh look," one of the girls snorted, "Tizmat's chumchi arrived."

Ignoring them, the newcomer pulled at Tizmat's arm, her grip steady and unyielding.

"Come. Don't waste a second here."

Dragged out of the suffocating ring, Tizmat stumbled into the open end of the corridor. The daylight was harsher here. A beam of gold slashed across her face, striking her eyes. For a fleeting second, the brightness blinded her. She blinked rapidly, vision swimming, as if even the sun mocked her refusal to look up.

But as they hurried away, one taunt lingered, clinging stubbornly to her ears, refusing to be shaken off.

Pathetic.

It followed her like a shadow.

The air outside was gentler with rays of fading gold.

The college gates stood at the far end of the path, and in between stretched a carpet of shadows broken by pools of sun.

For the first time all day, Tizmat let her breath ease, though her arms still clutched her books like armor.

Her friend nudged her lightly. "You're impossible, you know that? One month, gone without a word, and then you show up only to get cornered in the corridor. Is this your idea of a grand comeback?"

Tizmat lowered her gaze. "I didn't... I didn't think they'd notice me. I managed to hide the whole day though"

"They always notice you."

Her friend's tone softened, then turned sly again. "Maybe because you walk like you're guilty... That is, ofcouse, if you even come!"

A tiny smile ghosted Tizmat's lips, vanishing almost at once.

"It's not me... it's Taiji. She says college will ruin me. That I'll start talking to strangers, or—" her voice faltered as though even repeating it was wrong, "or find someone and run away."

Her friend scoffed loudly, tossing her hair back. "Run away? You? You can barely run from the library to the canteen without tripping."

Heat flushed Tizmat's cheeks.

"I'm serious."

"I know you are," her friend, Nilima, said sighing. "But you don't see it, do you? They want to keep you small. Afraid. So small you forget there's a whole world outside that Haveli."

Tizmat's grip on her books tightened again. The word haveli always made her chest heavier. "Maybe you're right," she whispered. "Maybe I can't... do much."

The evening sun caught her face just then, forcing her to squint. Her light eyes gleamed now, like polished glass.

For an instant, the glow tricked her into thinking she could be more than what Taiji said. Then she blinked, and it was gone.

Her friend watched her with quiet sadness, then deliberately changed the mood.

"Anyway, I should thank your Tauji and Taiji. If they hadn't kept you locked away like some antique vase, I wouldn't get to make dramatic rescues in corridors every month."

That tricked a small laugh out of Tizmat. It did not last long but it was genuine.

The campus gate grew nearer, as they kept walking.

Beyond it, the road stirred with rickshaws, fruit carts, students heading home.

A honk split the evening air. A black car waited by the curb, engine rumbling.

Tizmat stilled.

The books sagged in her arms.

Her friend arched a brow, lips curving with mockery edged in ache.

"Ah, there it is. Your ride." She tilted her chin toward the car. "Straight to the mansion. Or should I call it what it really is?" She smirked. "The prison van."

The words lodged in Tizmat's chest. For a moment, she almost believed she heard them echo long after the honk had faded.

***

They walked into the house with soft steps.

The clang of utensils cut into her like the sound of chains.

The Haveli had swallowed her whole again.

"Go to the kitchen," her Taiji's voice cracked from the hall, even before Tizmat had taken off her shoes. "And hurry. The day's almost gone, and you've done nothing. nothing! while I've been breaking my back here alone."

The words slid over Tizmat like water over stone. She nodded, though no one cared to notice, and slipped past the living room, gently placing her bag on the sofa.

The house glowed with evening sunlight. Its walls wore soft colors, its shelves lined with family portraits... her parents' smiling faces framed in wood, frozen in times when the rooms still belonged to them.

The curtains swayed in the warm evening breeze. Even the brass lamps and glass bowls gleamed as though polished by care.

To anyone else, the Haveli was homely, welcoming. To her, it was... different.

She reached the kitchen.

It was hotter there, fragrant with spices, birdsong echoing faintly from the trees outside. Neatly stacked steel utensils, polished plates, and porcelain dishes.

Tizmat moved without thought, pulling out lentils and vegetables, setting the rice to wash. Her hands knew the routine, her body too... there was no tiredness in her limbs, for this was not new.

She was cutting onions when her cousin's voice filled the doorway.

"Oye, iron my shirt. White one. I'm going out with my friends."

She turned, startled, knife still in hand.

"I... I'll do it after finishing—"

"No. Now," he interrupted, tossing the crumpled shirt onto the counter beside the onions.

From the drawing room, her Taiji's voice floated, softer now, almost teasing. "You're not going anywhere this evening, hm? Don't you know Sonali aunt might come? They didn't come yesterday, but now that Aslan is back... it could be today."

"Maa, it's just one evening," her cousin's tone was playful, coaxing. "Let me go. My friends are waiting."

"No, beta." She laughed, indulgent. "Not today. Stay home. If they visit, it won't look good if you're missing."

Tizmat's knife slipped, the blade grazing her finger.

She hissed, sucking in a breath, but no one heard.

Her cousin groaned dramatically. "You think of their family more than me"

"Chup, nautanki!" Her Taiji's laughter was light, affectionate. "You argue way too much"

The warmth in her voice was so unlike the acid she had poured on Tizmat moments earlier. The difference stung more than the tiny cut on her finger.

Then, without breaking stride in her banter, Taiji's voice rang out again, slightly sharper this time. "Tizmat! Did you iron that shirt yet?"

Tizmat froze, eyes on the half-chopped onion.

"Go! Iron it first, then come back to cook. If you were home earlier, everything would have been done by now!"

Her cousin smirked, lifting his chin with satisfaction. He tapped the shirt with one finger before striding away.

Tizmat pressed her lips together, wiped her damp eyes with the back of her hand, and gathered the shirt.

The iron hissed as she pressed down harder on the fabric.

Somewhere in the kitchen, the pressure cooker whistled like a warning. Her heart leapt. Oh, the rice!

She ran back inside, lifting the lid with trembling fingers, pouring the cloudy water off the grains. That's when Vardan's shout cracked through the house.

"TIZMAT, ARE YOU BLIND?!"

Her hands jerked, and the rice slipped, the pot clattering to the floor, ringing louder than she hoped.

She stumbled back into the living room, breath uneven, and saw the shirt... his shirt, scorched along the edge.

The iron sat tilted, still hissing smoke.

"Maa!" Vardan's voice was thick with fury.

From the kitchen, her Taiji walked out, eyes blazing after catching sight of the fallen rice and the charred shirt in one sweep.

"You useless girl!—"

Her voice was thunder.

"I'm sorry,"

Tizmat whispered.

Again, and again. Like a prayer. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm really-"

But Taiji's wrath had no pause this time.

She lunged forward, curses spilling, her hand raised.

Her instinct kicked in. Tizmat fled across the living hall. Her dupatta slipped slightly as a sharp tug pulled her mid-run... Taiji's hand clutching the fabric from behind.

"No! Don't you dare run—"

But she twisted free, leaving the dupatta behind, stumbling up to the attic door. She slammed it shut, chest heaving, Taiji's fists hammering the wood.

"Open this instant! Do you hear me? OPEN THE DOOR!"

Tizmat's body shook. When the banging did not stop... she turned the knob and stepped out, trembling.

The first slap cracked across her face the same instant.

The sting burned, but she only looked down. At the dupatta, fallen a few steps away on the rug.

Another blow to her arm, her Taiji's words cutting sharper than flesh, "Running like a thief in your own house after ruining everything! Useless girl!"

Vardan rolled his eyes, muttering, "Bas, Maa... I'll wear something else" before walking off, bored and tired of the scene.

That is when the bell rang like a sharp jolt.

Her Taiji froze, chest heaving, then turned toward the door.

"Vardan! Did you open it?"

When no answer came, she hurried forward herself.

Tizmat bent, fingers brushing toward her dupatta. The fabric trembled in her grip as the footsteps walked into the living room.

First came Sonali Aunty, her mother's closest friend, with her familiar smile. Behind her, Anand, tall and steady like always, and then his wife, in a graceful soft sari.

Tizmat faked a smile.

And then a shadow stretched long into the room, slowly. Aslan followed behind it, rigid and quiet, carrying no smile, nor words. The others filled the air with their greetings. 

He somehow stole it.

Tizmat's fingers fumbled with her dupatta, pulling it over her head just as he looked at her briefly.

His gaze was not tender like the others who entered before him. It was dark... pointless.

The weight of his brief look pinned her where she stood, sending shivers across her skin, knotting her insides until her practiced smile withered and died.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she dropped her gaze to the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED....